Youth Gone Wild
by thoth-moon
Summary: The death of a distant relative brings Shiori and Shuichi Minamino to town. The deceased’s eighteen-year-old son, Yoko, has bailed and wants to strike out for himself. Cutting ties isn’t easy, though, when Yoko and Shuichi attend the same school.
1. Eighteen

**A/N: **This one here pried its way inside my head a little while before Thanksgiving and it's been making itself quite at home. I've been writing various scenes for it and it's gotten to the point where it'd be ridiculous if I continued further without putting out a first chapter.

As you might have read in the summary on the way in, this is an AU. Many of the characters are going to be high school-aged (yes, it's that sort of fic). We're only seeing four of the characters in this chapter, but trust me, there'll be more coming.

**Title: **Youth Gone Wild

**Summary: **The death of a distant relative brings Shiori and Shuichi Minamino to town. The deceased's eighteen-year-old son, Yoko, has bailed and wants to strike out for himself. Cutting ties isn't easy, though, when Yoko and Shuichi attend the same school. Various pairings inside.

**Warnings: **innuendos, language, consensual sex, some nonconsensual sex, substances (alcohol, smoking, etc.), some child abuse, and references to hair metal bands.

**Pairings: **We see one of them and an allusion to another (um, sort of…) in this chapter. More will be coming. We'll be seeing guy with guy, guy with girl, and girl with girl. Don't like any of those, bail out now or deal with it.

By the way, though there will be romance (that usually goes with the pairings, unless it's noncon), and Shuichi and Yoko will be among the ones having romances, this isn't one of those fics where the two will be having romances with each other. In this story they're distant relatives, and the relationship they have will be of the familial type.

Well, I think I've chatted it up enough, so anyway:

* * *

Youth Gone Wild  
Chapter 1: Eighteen  
December 2, 2008

"Shuichi?"

"Mm?"

Shuichi Minamino blinked, and pulled himself out of his stupor long enough to focus on the face of his mother looking inquisitively over at him in the near-dark, periodically dispelled by brief intervals of headlights. "Yes?"

"You seem sleepy. Should I turn the radio off?"

Some classic rock tune was drifting up at a low volume. Was that Alice Cooper? "It's fine," he said, shaking his head and yawning. Yeah, he seemed sleepy: it was three in the morning. But his mother wanted to get as much moved in as early as possible. So there the two of them were, somehow fit in the car stuffed with boxes and miscellaneous loose items, pulling a U-haul behind them, heading to the new house that awaited them.

It'd all been due to a death. One of their distant relatives had lost the battle with a long-term illness and had left the house in the care of Shuichi's mother Shiori. Proximity had been a deciding factor; having the house had persuaded Shiori to accept a job offer with a company nearby.

So, to reiterate: them, car, U-haul, packed, three in the morning. Today was technically a Saturday. Monday would see a new job for Shiori and a new school for Shuichi. No need to miss a day of education when he could catch up on his sleep on Sunday. Hypothetically speaking, of course.

But it wasn't like they were moving to some big mess or blank slate like some movers do. The house sill had a living occupant, the deceased's eighteen-year-old son. There'd just have to be some rearranging. A lot of rearranging.

Tap-tap, nudge on his shoulder. "Shuichi, there should be a pillow in the backseat. I don't want you to mess up your neck leaning against the window."

Sleepily he murmured, "'kay, Mom," and twisting around fumbled his hand around the backseat.

* * *

It was 3:00 and Yoko Kurama was waiting on the landing outside an apartment complex, hoping the tenant behind the door he'd just finished banging on would wake up and let him in.

He felt a little bad since it was so late/early, but the Minaminos had chosen the middle of the night to move in and he hadn't felt like voicing his intentions to Shiori in person, since such a scenario always made it more difficult to elude elaboration when demanded.

'Doesn't matter anyway,' he thought defiantly. He was eighteen, a legal adult. They could have the house; where he lived was _his _decision, and he'd chosen to live here rather than there. It'd just be nice if "here" would let him in already; he and his things were getting lonely out in the yard.

When the door opened, the sleepy and confused greeter had no chance to inquire who was there and what the hell was going on before Kurama had seized him in an enthusiastic embrace. "My relatives might already be at the house," he explained once he let go. "By the time they arrived I wanted to be long gone. I didn't wake up your son, did I?"

Yawn. "No; Shura actually went down at a decent time and he's stayed down, thankfully. Do you need help moving anything right now?"

"Most of my stuff's in Kuronue's storage. I can move in what I have on my own." He picked up his bags and stepped inside the apartment.

"Do you need a light…?" Yomi groped along the wall (Kuronue's favorite joke nowadays was that Yomi had become an "expert groper") and found the switch.

Kurama looked around the living room. Well, a still recently blind parent with an energetic toddler wasn't going to keep the most orderly place. He hoped Yomi didn't trip a lot. "Thanks," he told his friend, thinking that if he was going to be living here, maybe he should be the one who made sure to keep the place picked up. "What are you doing tomorrow … today?"

"I told Enki you'd be moving in sometime soon." He'd just thought Kurama would choose the daylight hours. Even if he couldn't see the time anymore, he could still _feel _it. Oh well; he smirked. "So he shouldn't mind if I come in later tomorrow."

So they were on the same page. "I already turned in what's due tomorrow, so I'm going to skip." Setting down his stuff, he approached his friend, sizing him up. "Will Shura wake up if you try to get back in bed?"

Yomi took a slow breath as a slender finger traced one of his clavicles. "Possibly," he replied carefully. The finger was tracing circles in the hollow of his throat now. "That uh … couch, pulls out…" Kurama was playing with his ear now.

"I was counting on that." Yomi's ears were very sensitive to … well, most things nowadays.

Said man shuddered as Kurama stroked the spot right behind his lobe. "There'll be room for both of us to sleep," he murmured.

"Eventually," Kurama added, smiling lewdly as he pulled Yomi with him toward the couch.

* * *

**A/N: **It's short, I know, I'm sorry. More will be coming. We'll probably see the school in the next chapter, and among the characters that are coming we'll meet a pair of foster kid siblings that I think play a pretty big role in the story, so stay tuned.


	2. Welcome to the Jungle

**A/N: **Many thanks to TheLurkerOnline and to Fawx for reading and reviewing. I hope to keep your interest! This chapter makes up for the previous one's shortness. Prepare yourself for a first day at school, a family reunion, and mass character introductions. And hard language, especially from a broody foster kid.

* * *

Youth Gone Wild  
Chapter 2: Welcome to the Jungle  
December 18, 2008

Heaving a sigh, Shuichi flopped backward onto a pile of couch cushions, wiping away the sweat that had accumulated on his brow. It was 6:30; his mother and he had arrived at the house sometime between 3:30 and 4:00, and the two of them had been unloading, unpacking, and organizing since.

Just the two of them. Distant cousin Yoko was being distant in more ways than one. Try completely absent. When his mother had opened the house earlier, they'd found a note tacked on the inside door, signed by his cousin, saying that Yoko had already moved out with plans to live with a friend of his who was disabled and could use some help.

Confused, Shuichi had asked, "Did he ever mention this before?"

"No," replied his mother, looking just as confused. "Never. I don't know why he wouldn't; it's a very selfless decision for someone so young…" Frowning, she scanned the note again, looked on the back, and frowned some more.

Yoko hadn't left a phone number or address.

"See if you can find him at school on Monday," Shiori had told him. "His father only died recently and I want to make sure he's okay." More frowning. "I hope he hasn't dropped out to take care of his friend…"

Now: "Shuichi, I made up your bed. Go get some sleep; you've helped out a lot and I think I can finish up on my own."

"Are you sure?" he asked, even as he yawned.

"Go to bed," she affirmed, helping him to his feet and giving him a playful push toward the stairs. "You need your sleep today because I want you to go to school tomorrow."

No getting around that—when she'd been in town last week to meet with her new employers and to speak with Yoko about moving in (a lot of good that'd done), Shiori had taken the liberty of already enrolling him in Reikai High.

* * *

A crash in the kitchen made Kurama groan and roll over on the fold-out. "_Why _are you banging all that around?" he whined. Yomi couldn't _see_, he couldn't _cook _with pots and pans anymore.

"I'm looking for a _bowl_. Kuronue doesn't believe in sorting shit, he just throws it all in together, careless bastard slob…"

Somewhere the phone was ringing, and from the bedroom Shura could be heard yelling, "Da-da, Da … da…," as he hated it when Yomi let the phone ring.

"Mind getting that?" Yomi called into the living room.

Getting it … _where? _Kurama sighed and began crawling around on the floor.

"_Found it!_" both men yelled triumphantly as one found the bowl and the other the phone. "Gandhara residence," Kurama greeted.

"Wow Yomi, when'd you get all sexy sounding?"

The volume was loud. "Hey, tell him to get his ass over here and find all my fucking bowls."

"Who the fuck's that pissing in the background? Don't tell me that's Yomi the Bitch."

"Fuck you!" said the blind man through a mouthful of cereal.

"I'm sorry, what was that? Sounds like he's got my dick in his mouth or something."

Yomi made a choking sound, but managed to swallow while raising a middle finger. "I believe he thinks that situation should be reversed," Kurama said, braving the mess that was the kitchen so he could fix Shura's and his breakfast.

"Well he needs to hurry up and swallow. I'm pulling up front right now."

Kurama rolled his eyes and hung up as he heard the combination of an engine and a loud car stero grow closer, then stop. A few moments later the door shook under a knock-knock-knock. "Mind getting that, too?" Yomi asked. Shura had just run out of the bedroom and was trying to tickle one of his legs. Yomi was always concerned that if he moved in such situations he'd step on his son. Smirking, Kurama left Yomi to making "ahaha" sounds to humor Shura, and answered the door.

When he saw the visitor on the doorstep, clad mainly in leather from his boots to his torn-up top to the weathered floppy hat that concealed a silky black ponytail, the smirk broadened and took on a leering manner. "Well look who it is. When Yomi's done can I be next?"

Indigo eyes crinkled as Kuronue returned the smirk. "I thought I'd drop in on the honeymooners."

"Hah," said Yomi in the background. Picking Shura up and carrying him on one hip, he told Kuronue, "Get your ass in here and straighten up my kitchen."

"Right away, Mr. Mom. No—Wait." He considered Kurama. "_You're '_Mama,' aren't you?"

Unable to use correct pronunciation, Shura called them—except for Yomi, who was naturally "Dada"—by derivatives of their true names. Kuronue was "Onay," and Kurama had become … "Hah," the flaxen-haired boy said now dryly.

Soon the apartment's four occupants were situated in the living room. Kuronue was feeding oatmeal to Shura while Kurama was eating his own and Yomi was eating a second bowl of cereal. "So now that you're like the housewife here you're going to cook for that poor blind bastard sitting over there, right? You know he's basically living off of cereal and scraps from Enki's right now."

Simultaneously Yomi pointed a middle finger in what he thought was Kuronue's direction, and in Kurama's direction made a sort of shrug, conveying that he wasn't completely denying the claim either. Kurama for his part was skeptical. Yomi wasn't flabby or anything, but he did seem _heavier_, and even under his shirt Kurama could see that his arms and torso had gotten thicker.

But he wasn't going to point that out right now. Finished with his breakfast, he went to the kitchen and washed the bowl—and stacked it and its clean compatriots together in a spot that he thought might have originally been designated for them. Maybe. Who knew?

"Bowls are on the bottom shelf of the first cabinet to the left of the sink," he told Yomi. He had control of the situation. Now that he felt that his "housewife" duties this morning were complete, to Kuronue he said, "Give me a ride to school."

"Rate's the same as I charge hitchhikers: one way, one _job_. Got it?"

"Tell me, Kurama," Yomi said with a smirk, "is he wearing a straight face at all?"

"Hardly. Because every bit that just came out of his mouth was pure, unadulterated bullshit. He knows it, we know it, and he knows that we know it. Which is why he looks like a retarded Jack-o-lantern right now."

The accused managed to tame his face into something slightly less than a shit-eating grin, and didn't relapse too much when he retorted, "You're getting to be a bit of a fatass, Kurama. Maybe it'd be better if I make you walk to school." Even as he said it, he was moving toward the door and made a gesture for Kurama to hurry up and get his stuff.

"I don't know where you're getting 'fatass' from. If anything I think my ass ran away and joined your personality."

"Shut up and don't be late to school, how about that?" Yomi interjected, knotting his brows as he laced up his shoes. "Could one of you toss me Shura's bag?"

Kurama made to oblige, but Kuronue took it and set it next to Yomi. It didn't seem right to pitch things at a guy with hardly a fair chance of catching them. "See ya later," he told the blind man, and waved when Shura made a similar hand motion and said "Buh-buh."

On their way to the car Kurama stopped and adjusted his pants, which had been trying to slide down. Noticing, Kuronue opened Kurama's door and got in the one on his side, and when his companion had gotten situated said, "You know I was totally shitting you about the fatass thing, right?" Kurama had actually lost some weight while his dad was dying, and it'd probably do him good to get back at least most of it. That was the one nice thing about after Old Man Inari died; they'd basically gorged an entire week on the free food Kurama got from sympathetic relatives, friends and acquaintances.

His concerns earned an eyeroll from their receptor. "I'm not a little girl with self esteem issues. Even Yomi can see that. Now drive, or I won't even think about helping you with your chronic masturbation problem."

"_Pardon?_"

Tossing back his head and grinning, Kurama said, "That must be it, making you desperate to the point of charging such an exorbitant price, or attempting to, anyway."

Kuronue bit back a smirk and restrained himself from doing more than just grabbing Kurama's head and shoving him against the window a little.

* * *

Shuichi wasn't unpopular, he'd just never really made any close friends before. This hadn't escaped his mother, who'd supplemented her morning goodbye with the line, "Meet some new people."

Fine then: he could kill two birds with one stone—honor request number two, meet new people, while honoring request number one, look for Yoko.

Unfortunately the first people he encountered were engaged in a fistfight. He stared, one eyebrow raised, while a tall boy with orange hair, clad in blue, and a boy with slicked back dark hair, wearing green, shoved each other across the slab, making grinding noises as the occasional piece of gravel was caught under someone's sneaker and subsequently dragged over the concrete. Also watching the two was a brunette girl in a blue dress, scowling and yelling admonitions at whichever boy was named "Yusuke." (Shuichi couldn't tell; neither one seemed to be paying her any attention.) Figuring he could find someone a little less engaged to ask about his cousin, he turned around a was preparing to round the corner, before freezing after coming face to gace with someone who'd apparently been doing the same thing from the other side. "I'm sorry!" he stammered, blinking down at the person he'd almost tumbled over.

In response a pair of reddish eyes blinked up at him. Said eyes were set in the somewhat delicate-looking face of a somewhat delicate-looking boy. Part of this impression might have been because the boy was rather short, about eye-level with Shuichi's chest. That aside, there was a surly sort of expression in the boy's eyes and in his face that ensured that the first thought that came to an observer's mind wasn't the boy's apparent delicacy. In fact the only reason it came to Shuichi's mind seemed to be because he found himself staring at the other boy long enough to notice that the by wore his hair in a spiky fashion, may have a penchant for hair dye (in the middle of all the spiky black was a pointy white design), and wore a plain white headband—which was a bit of a contrast, considering the rest of his attire: black shirt, black pants, black trench coat, black boots. 'Please don't let him come after me with a gun later,' Shuichi thought.

Narrowed reddish eyes now stared at him while the face adopted an expression that could easily have been confused, thoughtful, or pissed. Shuichi thought that fortune—or, at least the avoidance of misfortune—best lay with the second possibility, then the first, so long as it wasn't the third.

Eventually: "Hn," grunted the boy, taking a few steps forward and to the side, cocking his head and giving Shuichi the same look at a different angle. "You're new," he finally said monotonously.

"I am," Shuichi agreed, perhaps a little too quickly and too loudly. Pausing a moment, he said with better control over his voice, "My name is Shuichi Minamino."

First, no response. Then, "Hn."

Unsure if a mutual introduction was necessary for this encounter to count as meeting new people, Shuichi decided they could always revisit that later, and proceeded to the second objective: "My cousin is Yoko Kurama. I was wondering—"

"Shit, Urameshi, New Guy found Hiei."

Footfalls of a few people from behind, and then Shuichi saw the previously brawling carrot-top and brunette, soon joined by the girl in the blue dress. The brunette (Urameshi, apparently) looked from him to the kid in the trench coat (Hiei?) and said, "You don't look like he's gone at you."

Knotting his brows, he inquired, "Should I?"

"You're more likely to get beat up around _them_," muttered the kid called Hiei. "Just because they're bored."

"And he'll mindfuck you and we'll have to go to another assembly about tolerance and school shooting and blah blah some other crap," retorted Urameshi with a shrug, then half-smiled at Shuichi. "If you told him your name it doesn't really matter because he's going to call you 'Idiot' or something just as witty like he does to everyone else around here, but I might call you by it."

"Shuichi," he supplied, brows still knotted, "Minamino."

"Yusuke," replied his inquisitor, "Urameshi. Kazuma Kuwabara." The orange-haired boy he'd been punching not five minutes earlier. "Call him Kuwabara. Or whatever the hell you feel like, actually. I think it's not so much what you say but what you do with your voice when you say it, like with a dog." Kuwabara rolled his eyes and aimed his foot at Yusuke's rear. Yusuke hopped to the side. "And she's Keiko," he concluded, pointing his thumb behind him.

The girl in the blue dress. "Yukimura," she added, rolling her eyes at Yusuke. "Did you say that your cousin in Yoko Kurama?"

He nodded his head. "Distant cousin," he specified. "Fifth, or something like that."

"So you're the relatives that moved into the house?"

Another nod. "My mom and I."

"So what, your dad kicked the bucket too? _Ow!_" Yusuke winced as Keiko punched his shoulder.

Shuichi watched the nonverbal reprimand with an uncertain semi-smile, then blinked in confusion when the first syllable or two of a snicker came from Hiei. "Maybe he's just a bastard like you."

"Takes one to know one," Yusuke shot back hotly. Hiei shrugged, then looked at Shuichi again.

Was he supposed to answer? "My father did die," he confirmed. "A few years ago. Car crash."

"Ooh, sorry." Yusuke winced again, without inducement this time. "That sucks, I was in one before."

"Except you were the idiot who ran out in the middle of the street and _caused _it," Kuwabara said.

"Fuck you, man! I only ran out in the street to push that little kid out of the way."

"Maybe that dumbshit was supposed to die," murmured Hiei with a little smirk. "Maybe you fucked up the order of everything when he didn't get retribution for playing in the street, and someone else had to die in his place. Maybe it was _his _dad," referring to Shuichi.

"Maybe not everyone shares your social Darwinist butterfly effect cynicism," Keiko said hastily, giving Shuichi a concerned look.

He shrugged. Maybe Hiei was put off by almost getting knocked down. Being a little sleep-deprived made him not care all that much about if the comment was meant to be antagonistic at him or not.

Or not, probably, after Hiei said, "You were wondering?"

"What?"

"Your cousin is Yoko Kurama," the boy in black restated. "You were wondering…?"

Oh yeah. "Does anyone know where he usually is right now?"

"I thought you moved into his house?" Kuwabara asked.

"Yes, but he apparently moved out…"

"Probably to Yomi's," Hiei said.

"Who?" But as Shuichi asked the bell rang and drowned him out.

"Oh God, it begins again!" Yusuke groaned, looking at the school with a pained face.

"None of us actually know Yoko," Keiko told Shuichi as they headed toward the entrance. "Us three are freshmen and he's a senior, so we don't really have any classes together. Unless you count when Yusuke and Kuwabara see him in detention."

"Naw, he's only in there sometimes," the carrot-top said. Shuichi inferred that he and Yusuke were in there more frequently. "I think he's been too busy with his dad dying to get in trouble, either that or the teachers have just been cutting him some slack because of it. When he is there he's always in the back with that guy who blasts the Skid Row out of his headphones."

"More of a G N' R man, myself," Yusuke interrupted.

"Short-stuff might be someone to ask, though, they sit close together sometimes. Hiei," Kuwabara added when it occurred to him that Shuichi had no idea whom "Short-stuff" meant.

Unfortunately Hiei had disappeared, so Shuichi figured he was back to powers of observation for a while.

* * *

Kurama, in his slightly more naïve days, had snorted that the school had a guidance counselor whose only form of guidance was asking students what college they thought they were going to. Turns out she did more than that if she thought you needed it. Unfortunately, he apparently needed it.

He was seated outside the small hallway in the office, on what had to be the most uncomfortable bench ever. They must really want their selected "traumatized" kids to cry, he figured. Well fuck them—_he _was going to think of the hard seat he'd had earlier, when he'd gotten out of the car on the driver's side. With Kuronue still in the driver's seat. Asshole really liked his supposed fat ass then.

Down the hall a door opened, a door shut, footstep, footstep, footstep… "Have we figured out if I should skip school April 20th?" he inquired wryly, smirking at the school's suspected and isolated neo-Columbine kid.

"Fuck you," the sophomore Hiei Jaganshi replied impassively. "If we're going by what _they _think then Pretty Boy Wakamaru and his buttbuddy Blondie are the first ones gone. I think Dumbass has first dibs on him, though."

"Dumbass" was a freshman named Kazuma Kuwabara. "Did you tell her that?"

Now Hiei smirked. Make Kuwabara sit on the Bench of Inquisition and then tell the counselor whether or not his dead parents and dysfunctional home life had fucked him up enough to warrant special administration by the faculty and staff. "Someone was looking for you earlier."

"If it was _any _of those creepy theater kids I'm _not _interested in that de Sade play or whatever the fuck they're doing this time." It'd be weird regardless of what it was. Karasu Bakudan always picked the production, and always picked one with his preferred, _unique_, flavor.

"Shuichi Minamino. Redhead. Kind of looks like a bitch. Says he's your cousin."

… Oh—_fuck_. Why hadn't it occurred to him they'd be going to the same school? No shit they'd be in the same district, they technically had the same _address_. "Oh," he said nonchalantly. "Okay." Shit, shit, shit…

His mental self-reprimands were cut short when a deceptively cheery "Yoko" came from down the hall. "Later," he murmured to Hiei, wincing as he got off the bench and went to face the counselor. "Morning," he greeted the counselor in a bored tone as he shut the door behind him and took a seat opposite her at the desk.

"How are you this morning, Yoko?" asked Botan Enshutsu.

"My boyfriend's kid didn't sleep well. He was screaming half the fucking night."

"Eh, and which boyfriend…?"

Kurama was always _very _honest with Botan. It made these little talks of theirs _fun_. "The one that dropped out because the school can't distinguish a blind kid from a retard."

"Did Yomi officially drop out?" she inquired in a concerned tone.

"Did the school ever get those Braille books they said they were going to get for him?"

She didn't know. "George got a phone call from one of your relatives this morning. Her name's Shiori Minamino. Isn't she the one your father put in charge of the estate?"

"She is."

"She enrolled her son in school here. His name's—"

"Shuichi." He'd _met _them before, especially recently. Did she think he didn't do shit like attend reunions and similar family affairs?

"He should be here today. Have you seen him at all yet?"

"I haven't." He waited for what he knew was coming next.

Giving him one of those concerned looks that seemed her standard where he was concerned (no pun intended), she continued, "Shiori said you moved out without notice."

"I left her a note."

"With no address or phone number."

"We hardly live in a metropolis," he said tersely. "She can and did track me down."

"You moved in to help out a disabled friend. Is that Yomi?"

Pointedly: "Someone should help him."

"Why didn't you explain the situation more fully?"

"I wanted to leave a note, not a novella."

"Why did you leave a note instead of explaining in person?"

It was like playing the "because" game with a child. Crap: Shura. At least that was a while off. "The Minaminos are distant relatives in more than the genealogical sense. I didn't feel like summarizing my personal life to someone who might react any of a number of ways." Play the jaded minority card. "I do have a class soon," he reminded her.

She nodded, then looked at him a few moments. "I am concerned…"

'Of course you are.'

"Are you sure it's a good idea to jump from taking care of your father to taking care of Yomi?"

"Do _not _insinuate I'm searching for a substitute father figure or some such bile."

"I don't mean—"

How he loved his co-conspirator the clock. "Botan, I hardly have the time to enunciate all the indignations that comment prompts. Calculus?"

"I know," she sighed, waving her leave. "We can talk about this next time."

'Of course,' Kurama thought, suppressing an eyeroll as he left.

* * *

Inari Kurama had had an illness for a while and had been dying for almost as long. Hiei supposed that was why he'd periodically see Yoko Kurama sitting on the bench in the office generally reserved for those students awaiting their turn in the counselor's seat. First sighting he could remember had been about a month into his freshman year. About a third of the way through the second semester the elder Kurama had been confined to his sickbed in the house, and Yoko became a regular presence on the bench. The past three weeks had seen enough of that that Hiei thought the senior should be named Honorary Citizen and Patron of the Bench.

Outside of the office the two didn't really interact on an intimate level, but did know things about each other. Kurama was in an open or polygamous or something like that relationship with Yomi Gandhara, a single parent who'd basically dropped out of school after a firecracker accident had left his eyes shot; and with Kuronue Koumori, a senior who signed himself out of class frequently enough that he may as well have dropped out. He was good at cracking codes and playing practical jokes. Or at least, that's what he was usually given detention for, when he was caught—and Hiei was suspicious that this happened because Yoko wanted it to happen for the attention.

Apparently Yoko was also some sort of freak when it came to observations, to the point that it was disturbing. Hiei thought of it as such because Yoko was the one student in school who had, independent of his disclosure, determined the connection between him and Yukina Koorime.

There she was, sitting at lunch in the cafeteria. She was wearing a turquoise dress, and red ribbons in her hair. She sat with some of her friends. Among them was Keiko Yukimura; daughter of a pair of local grocers; sort of girlfriend to the green jumpsuit-wearing dumbass, Yusuke; and an acquaintance and occasional contestant (such as this morning) of himself. Keiko was probably still annoyed with him over his manner toward Shuichi Minamino. Not that he cared—wasn't his conduct a matter between he and _Shuichi_, not her? No, she wasn't a repellant.

Also among Yukina's friends were several other offshoots of the Koorime family. _They _were somewhat foreboding. Hiei didn't look a thing like any of them.

A few wary looks were thrown his way as he moved to get in line for lunch. Dumb bitches, _he _didn't control where the lunch line formed, stupid-ass snotty little…

"Hi Hiei," Yukina said sweetly.

Except for her. Never her. "Hello Yukina. What's for lunch?"

"Why don't you go find out instead of harassing her about it?" said one of the Koorime cousins nastily.

Well if she could dish it out: "Why don't you go drive another of your kinswomen out the window, you stuck-up lesbo cunt?" he retorted, as though it were a mere suggestion.

"Could you please not say that?" Keiko admonished, though she wasn't as adamant as earlier. After all, she tried to be the understanding intellectual, and Hiei tried to be the dejected foster kid.

"I'm sorry, you're right: calling _that _'lesbo' would insult Kuwabara's sister."

Several pairs of aqua-colored brows knotted at mention of that name. One good thing about the _blue _jumpsuit-wearing dumbass hanging around Yukina: it pissed off those pristine little Koorime almost as much as _he _did.

"I thought Shizuru liked guys too?" Yukina asked.

He shrugged. "Ask him," he replied—there came Kuwabara now. His shift annoying his bitch relatives was over. Licking his middle finger, he smirked and showed it to Mouthy Man-hater of the Day, then waved at Yukina and Keiko and moved up in the line.

Lucky that his sister hadn't turned out like his cousins. At least he got to talk to her at school.

* * *

"So any luck finding your cousin?" Yusuke asked.

"None yet," answered Shuichi.

They were in Body Conditioning, playing dodgeball, or had been. Most everyone had been massacred by a junior named Hagiri. Yusuke and Hiei had been good competition for a while, until Yusuke got distracted by the volleyball game on the other side of the yard, and Hiei got bored and just walked into an oncoming ball so he could go sit down.

"Maybe he skipped."

Hiei made a grunt of dissent from his spot, a little further down the bench. "He was here earlier at least."

Shuichi looked down the bench at the boy, now wearing black shorts and a faded blue tank top. "You saw him?"

"Waiting outside Botan's office."

"Why's Yoko Kurama seeing the counselor?"

"Gee, Urameshi, didn't his dad just _die_?"

"They're making him," Hiei supplied.

Apparently this made more sense to Yusuke, who shrugged and nodded. "All right, I can see that. Coercion's a fave of theirs."

"Yours ain't coercion Urameshi, you're paying shit off."

"Fuck off, Kuwabara!"

And with that both jumpsuit-wearing dumbasses hit the ground in a mass of tangled, flailing limbs. "Wrestling," Hiei muttered. "Gayest sport ever."

"_No_, that would be volleyball."

Tilting his head back to see his new opponent, Hiei raised an eyebrow and repeated, "_Volleyball?_"

"Indeed," Yoko Kurama confirmed seriously. "Played by priests of Apollo as part of their festivities in tribute to the god. Villagers were invited to watch the game, and the orgy the priests commenced directly after." Hiei widened his eyes a little. "Hence," concluded Kurama, "the gayest sport ever."

"… Uh-huh," Hiei managed. Pointing, he said, "Your cousin."

There he was all right, Shuichi Minamino, not looking his best in sweaty gym clothes, but who _did _look good in them (aside from Suzuka Kyogi, at least)? Earlier when Hiei had said "Kind of looks like a bitch," Kurama had been inclined to disagree (he'd had his share of that "haha you have long hair you're a girl!" tripe himself), but at the moment his cousin's generous red mane was pulled back in a manner that rather discredited any defense he'd have made earlier; it'd look better again once it'd been brushed out. Part of it had already come loose, getting into a pair of emerald green eyes, currently trained on him. His lips seemed frozen together.

Shuichi had intended to say something when Yoko looked his way. His cousin's platinum blonde hair had been pulled back at the funeral, and looked longer now loose. Yoko's clothing was loose too now, in contrast to the funeral black: some white sort of drapery things that made Shuichi think of a toga, unless that suggestion was a leftover of the Greek talk a moment ago. Though of course Yoko wore pants, and slip-on shoes instead of sandals. He guessed that his cousin favored a monochromatic look.

Except for Yoko's eyes, piercing yellow eyes like a bird of prey's or a cat's or some other predator. At the moment they may as well have been a basilisk's: Shuichi was frozen.

So Yoko spoke first. "Did you two move in without issue?"

"Uh—Yes," he replied, nodding hastily. "Mom was surprised, when we arrived and you weren't there—"

"You two found my note, I hope?" Shuichi nodded again. "I thought it sufficiently explanatory. She and you manage well enough on your own, don't you?" Another nod. "Understand that my friend cannot on his own, and needs my ass—"

He paused and drew a breath as something swung down on his rear. "Oh don't stop, Kurama," said an amused voice. "Go on an explain how I need your ass."

Kurama turned around to face a smirking Yomi. "How did you—?"

"My eyes crapped out, not my feet. People see a blind man coming, they either get out of his way or try to heckle him." _Whap! _Kurama dodged Yomi's cane as the latter whipped it round him and struck some kid who'd been making some semi-audible faces behind him, right in the stomach. Ignoring the sounds of collapsing and wheezing, Yomi added, "The cane is usually a deterrent."

"Nice," snickered Kurama.

"I had expected to stumble around the school a while looking for you while serving as a visual reminder of the shortcomings and failures on this school's part. Why'd you spoil my fun?"

"Couldn't help it; my school day's over." Due to shortcomings on the school's scheduling part he had one less class than everyone else. Which was fine, because he still had enough credits to graduate, and thanks to block scheduling got out of school every other day an hour and a half early. "Where's Shura, Enki's?"

"No, today one of the neighbors agreed to watch him."

Quirking an eyebrow, Kurama inquired, "_Upstairs _neighbors?" Yomi nodded and Kurama immediately followed with, "Aren't they crazy?" That was the popular opinion, and the noises Kurama had heard from the apartment above theirs had done nothing to dissuade him from believing such.

"_He's _crazy; I think the other one's playing along out of support. Want to walk home with your eyes covered for me?"

Not dignifying that with an answer, he asked, "Which one did you leave him with?"

"Obviously I left my son with the crazy one that dislikes children, Kurama."

Shuichi looked up in surprise at the newcomer, who looked around Yoko's age. Black hair sprouted from a widow's peak hairline and hung just past his shoulders, framing a slightly pallid face. His eyes were hidden behind a pair of sunglasses. "You have a child?"

"Who's that?" Yomi asked.

"Cousin Shuichi."

"Ah. Yes, Cousin Shuichi, I do, and let me warn you: whenever you are so inclined to mess around with a woman, for sanity's sake take care that she's not some cold steely bitch who dumps your collaborative bastard on you and never gives word again."

Startled, Shuichi managed what he hoped was a polite "Oh." Meanwhile Hiei wondered if Yomi's "cold steely bitch" had been a Koorime.

"Live and learn, I suppose. Kurama, _he _is supposed to be home by four, so I'd like for all traces of my child to be moved downstairs well before then."

"Agreed. Shuichi,"—the redhead looked his way—"this is my friend whom I've moved in with. Should your mother have any concerns, she's welcome to voice her concerns to _me _personally from now on, rather than the school counselor." He'd already put down his number on a piece of paper, and took this out of his pocket now and gave it to Shuichi. "Have Shiori call that. Ready, Yomi?"

"Where do you live?" Shuichi called after him.

Debating whether he wanted Shiori to know his address right away, Kurama widened his eyes and bristled when Yomi yelled back "On Skid Row."

Green eyes narrowed as Shuichi contemplated that answer. "That's vague … they live in the poor section of town?"

"Skid Row Road," Hiei elaborated.

"Someone had a sense of humor when they named that one," Yusuke said, poking the fibers of the thinning knee of his pant leg either direction away from a now skinned knee. "It's like the 'You Are Now Entering…' sign of the poor section of town."

"Is it dangerous?" Shuichi asked, thinking of his mother going to see Yoko.

"Just on Skid Row Road, not really, I think," Kuwabara told him. "Unless you're gang-affiliated, maybe. Are you?" Shuichi gave him a "need I answer?" look. "Right, didn't figure. 'Sides, if you're Yoko's cousin no one over there's gonna touch you."

Shuichi nodded. Though he wasn't sure how much blood ties talked when the relative barely wanted to talk to him.

* * *

"Did you really have no options but them? I think there are some domestic issues happening up there."

Yomi fought the urge to laugh—he didn't think it was _all _domestic issues. "There are domestic issues between Enki and Koko, too. Doesn't stop me from exploiting their availability as babysitters when I can."

"But this guy's psychotic." He was still well-known at school: famous for his academic prestige—and infamous for the way he'd left.

"And Koko's not? Besides, I think we're all psychotic from time to time; at least he knows it and takes medicine for it. It's eerie how stimulating it can be having a conversation with him."

A snort. "You have a thing for the crazies?"

Sweetly, "I'm with you, aren't I?" Kurama rolled his eyes, and reached out to steady his friend, as they had reached home and were at the steps. Yomi brushed his arm away and stepped up on his own, tap-tapping his cane, always a step ahead of him. His cane found the door, and he struck it a few times, and waited.

When the door opened Kurama raised an eyebrow as the lover, the one who was crazy by association, appeared: a tall, slender young man with long teal hair, wearing a flowing sleeveless shirt that showed off some well-toned arms. Under the shirt he wore a pair of relaxed cotton pants and red slippers. With mild ire, Kurama noted that the other guy was basically wearing a slightly more colorful version of _his _outfit.

"Did all your errands go well this afternoon, Mr. Yomi?" asked the man.

"We'll be able to eat, which is good since we've acquired another mouth to feed." Kurama winced a little as Yomi groped for him with the cane and wound up smacking him in the shin. "Itsuki, I don't think you've met Kurama?" The man now identified as Itsuki replied that he had not. "This is my good friend, Yoko Kurama. Kurama, this is Itsuki Yaminade, Shinobu Sensui's boyfriend."

Everyone present knew who Shinobu Sensui was. Kurama offered a "How do you do?," still processing the information that Sensui had a live-in boyfriend.

"Making dinner," Itsuki said. Kurama noticed a burn on the man's arm. "Shinobu will be home soon."

Sensui didn't like kids. "I'm sure both of those will run smoother once I take Shura off your hands." Itsuki murmured something in agreement, and excusing himself withdrew into the apartment for a moment, returning with Yomi's son and the basically mandatory accessories that coincided with a child that young. Immediately Kurama stepped up as pack mule, unsure of Yomi's dexterity on the stairs with full arms and not wanting to experiment with the child involved.

"You didn't tell me Sensui was gay," Kurama said as they re-situated Shura et al in Yomi's—well, now more like _their_—apartment downstairs.

"I thought you'd appreciate a dry sort of surprise," Yomi replied, taking off his sunglasses before throwing himself down on the couch and adopting a lounging position. Shura toddled up and began patting his face. He pulled the child up on top of him and let his hands be taken hostage for a round of patty-cake. Tilting his head back toward Kurama, he said, "Bitch, go make me a sandwich."

"Go make it yourself."

"Ever tried assembling something in the dark?"

"I don't care if you make a mess, so long as you don't burn the place down."

"_Soup _and sandwiches sound good for dinner." Bluntly he added, "I can't work a stove, Kurama."

The flaxen-haired boy sighed. "That pity angle isn't flattering, Yomi," he said, before going into the kitchen.

He decided that while he had the stove on he might as well make grilled cheese sandwiches, which he knew Shura could eat. After setting the toddler up with that, though, he hesitated and asked, "Can he handle soup?"

"So long as it's not very hot," Yomi replied, tearing his son's sandwich into smaller pieces so that the child could feed himself.

Kurama taste-tested the soup, found the temperature fine, and doled out a bit for Shura to start with. Then he took his own dinner and sat down next to Yomi. The blind man had taken off his jacket, baring his arms. Remembering this morning, Kurama thought a moment, then said, "For someone who's been living off of cereal, you look like you're putting on a lot of weight."

"Muscle," replied Yomi brusquely. "I can't run around like I used to, but I've been doing weights." Saying this, he held out one arm for Kurama to inspect if it suited him.

The boy took him up on it, and widening his eyes realized that Yomi actually had quite some definition. "Have you been doing this by yourself?" he inquired, squeezing a bicep.

"Kuronue spots me." Kurama nodded, thinking that Kuronue had a nice set of arms too. He wondered if Yomi had been toning up anywhere else, and decided to find out.

Shifting as Kurama pulled up his shirt and fingered his abdomen, he grabbed the other boy by the head and gently pushed him away when the fingers began trailing too far downward. "Not the time," he warned, tilting his head pointedly toward Shura.

"Sorry," Kurama said, sitting back. He could wait until Shura was put to bed.

Fortunately Shura actually went to sleep after going to bed, as by then Kurama was getting antsy. "Take off your shirt," he implored once Yomi had shut the bedroom door and returned to the living room. Yomi rolled his eyes, but wasn't sure if that had much of an effect anymore. Oh well; his son was asleep and he was here now in the company of, he knew from his sighted days, one _foxy _specimen, who wanted satisfaction. Best to deliver, then. Smirking, he grabbed the hem of his shirt tails and _slowly _lifted them up, sure that Kurama's eyes were currently documenting and savoring his every move. So his friend was right, he _had _gained a lot of flesh—but he wore it all damn well.

Even if he hadn't already known that, it would have been confirmed by Kurama's swift move to appreciate. He kept as still as possible while Kurama ran a pair of slender hands over his stomach, traced them up his waist, moved them across his chest. When the hands moved in on his nipples, however, he no longer found it so simple to stand still, especially once the hands began to turn circles, coaxing his nipples into a nicely pointed pair of nubs.

Keeping still proved impossible when Kurama began to pinch and twist one nipple while licking the other. With one hand he groped behind him, with the other he made sure that tongue stayed right where it was. He found the couch arm and managed to only slip a little while in transit to the couch itself, keeping Kurama and that nimble little tongue fixated on him the entire time. Spreading himself over the couch, he tilted his head back and let in and out deep, sighing breaths while he kept on hand on Kurama's head, massaging its scalp as its _skilled _owner switched sides. The other hand he inched downward, to placate another part of him aching for a bath from Kurama too.

The hand brushed Kurama's thigh, bringing attention to itself. Immediately Kurama rose up off Yomi's chest and grabbed it. "Uh-uh!" he scolded gently, in a sing-song fashion, nibbling its knuckles in playful admonition. "This isn't a game of Blind Man's Bluff," he told it, swatting it on the wrist while its master chuckled. "Now, let me lead the way." And smirking he pulled the hand down Yomi's chest and abdomen so that it could feel how much sexier its body had gotten, and then left it at the base of this sexiness while he freed and began to kiss the tip.

Yomi tossed himself back into the couch and groaned as he showed self-appreciation via minute strokes; while Kurama showed appreciation via greedy, voracious slurps and sucks and swallows, all the while making the savory sounds of a happy glutton. Afterwards, while Yomi lied sprawled and panting still, Kurama sat back and licked his lips, making exaggerated smacking sounds, and in his best sultry voice declared, "You're such a big boy, Yomi, but it wasn't _all _muscle. If you hadn't gotten so _plump _I couldn't have eaten you up like I just did."

But Yomi wasn't so far gone from being the dish that he couldn't dish it out too. Sitting up, he grinned and pulled Kurama to him, smacking the other boy on the seat of his pants. "And what about you?" he asked, his hand appraising the pants' contents, squeezing. "Did you meal just go straight to your ass, or has Kuronue been helping you get bigger too?"

Kurama smirked and backed up into Yomi's grasp, letting out a sensuous chuckle for the other's benefit when the grasp became a massage. "How was that a meal?" he inquired deviously. He picked up Yomi's unoccupied hand. "I'm still hungry."

Something warm and wet, Kurama's tongue, lapped at his fingertips. "Oh?" humored Yomi with a smirk of his own.

"Yes," Kurama affirmed, kissing each finger. He backed against the other hand harder. "You've only fed one of my mouths."

He said it so nonchalantly. Somehow Yomi managed not to break into more than low laughter. "I see," he said (a little dryly), before flipping them and just hoping he didn't send the wrong part of Kurama down onto the couch arm. Judging from the lack of cracks and pained utterances—hell, what he _was _getting was a low croon of encouragement—, he was getting better at this sightless maneuvering bit. "So Kuronue has been spoiling you, has he?" A snort. He smirked. "Well, let's hope he likes looking at your ass as much as I do feeling it, because it'll be twice as swollen as it is now once I'm done 'feeding' you."

* * *

**A/N: **Hiei's description of Yusuke as a "green jumpsuit-wearing dumbass" comes from one of Lanipator's videos on YouTube; it's so apt a descriptor, coming from Hiei, that I felt compelled to use it.

I had to create surnames for the characters that in the show are mononymous. The ones for Yomi, Yukina, and Itsuki are pretty obvious, but I had to do a bit more thinking with some of the others, so here we go:

Kuronue: Koumori = Bat

Botan: Enshutsu = Direction

Karasu: Bakudan = Bomb (He'll be making an actual appearance soon.)

Suzuka: Kyogi = Vanity

More characters will be introduced and more interaction between already established characters (e.g. Shuichi and Yoko, Shuichi and Hiei) will happen in the next chapter.


	3. Stranger in a Strange Land

**A/N: **First update (on my part) of the year, I do believe. Hope it—the year and the story—has been good for everyone so far, or at least not very horrible. In this chapter we meet a few more characters and learn a little more about already established ones, so here we go:

Youth Gone Wild  
Chapter 3: Stranger in a Strange Land  
January 16, 2009

"He _was _at school?"

Shuichi nodded, and Shiori's face slackened in relief. "His friend's blind and has a kid. And, I think he might be his _boy_friend."

"Really?" He nodded again, but half-shrugged—he wasn't a hundred percent, but the way they'd been talking. Nodding absently, Shiori repeated, "He was at school, then. So he hasn't dropped out. Good." Still she looked troubled, but then asked, "Aside from your cousin, did you meet anyone today?" He had, and listed off some names: Yusuke, Kuwabara, Keiko, Yukina, Hiei. This seemed to please her.

"Oh," he said, remembering. "Kurama's phone number. He gave it to me." Pulling it out of his pocket, he gave it to his mother, and added, "His friend said they live on Skid Row Road."

Probably not an assuring name, if the look on her face was anything to go by. "Does his friend have a name?" she asked, looking at the number and then tacking it up on the wall by the phone.

What had Hiei told him? "Gandhara. Yomi Gandhara." His mother murmured something about a school directory. "You should probably call him before trying to go over or anything. He basically told me so earlier."

"Of course," she agreed, in an isn't-that-obvious? tone. "Sudden movements might make him bolt."

Like he was an animal gone feral. "Maybe he's spooked." Okay, that made him sound like a horse that'd scared during a storm or something. "His dad did just die, right?"

Conceding his point, Shiori added, "Then if moving out was just a knee-jerk reaction, I'd like to find out if it's suiting him or if he needs to be coaxed home." Sighing, she shrugged and said, "But it isn't something I'll find out this evening. Do you have homework?" He did. "Why don't you go work on it, and I'll have dinner ready in a little while, okay?"

Okay. There was no more talk of Kurama the rest of the night.

* * *

"What's up with you, Shorty?"

Annoyed, Hiei looked up at Kuwabara, and monotonously answered, "A very ugly ape."

"_Hah_. I meant, why do you look like shit?"

Personally Hiei thought that his own insult had been nicer. "Late night, jackass. You look like you've had a few hundred of those yourself recently." Kuwabara glared at him and he smirked in return. Idiot didn't even know he'd just helped bump Hiei's morale up a few notches. Last night had sucked, so it felt good to get a few kicks now.

"Forget you, man. Jeez, guy asks a question, gets nothin' but—Yukiiina!!" Now Kuwabara truly had forgotten about Hiei, leaving him in the dust, run off to greet his better half.

Yours and mine both, Hiei thought, a tad glumly.

"Hiei?"

Likelihood of his answering was usually so-so, but he recognized this voice. "Hn?" He turned around and looked curiously at an uncertain-looking Shuichi.

"I don't want to bug you," the redhead ventured, looking apologetic, "but I can't find my first class. Do you know where the greenhouse is?"

Stupid school couldn't name things right—"Yeah. Follow me"—; took a room in the back of the ag building, filled it full of plants and called _that _"green house," like it was its own and detached or something. Least then it'd be easier to find if you'd never been out there before.

En route they ran into Kuwabara and Yukina, who'd apparently circled the corridors at least once already. This time it was she who asked after him: "Are you getting sick, Hiei?"

Really, did he look _that_ bad? "No." Just a late night. On a fucking porch, of all places to (_not_) sleep.

Kuwabara tried retaliating against Hiei's "ugly ape" remark from before. "See, he's trying to build up a freaky dead look for his role as pygmy-vampire-zombie for the school play." Several lockers down there was a loud "Booooo," followed by a metallic thud. "Oh shut up, Urameshi! At least I'm being creative." However, this defense didn't keep Yusuke from banging his forehead on the locker again, hands held around his throat and a repulsed expression on his face.

"Creative, perhaps; but not factual. I wrote no such character in the play."

Turning around, Shuichi saw the owner of the voice, the apparent playwright. "Yea," cheered Hiei unenthusiastically. "Thespian."

"Orphan," replied Karasu Bakudan coolly. Fluorescent hands played off and made strands of silky jet hair glitter as the "thespian" titled his head way from Hiei. Violet eyes appraised the boy standing beside him. "What may I call you?"

"My name's—"

"Going to be called at the beginning of class," Hiei interrupted. "Which starts in a few minutes. Let's go."

"O-_kay_—." He stumbled a step or two as Hiei grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him along.

The brunette pulled him along until they'd turned a corner and gone half-way down the hall. "Do I look sick?" he asked after he'd let go of Shuichi.

Examining him for a moment, Shuichi said, "No, you look like you stayed up late."

Nice and simple, _see? _Dark circles didn't have to mean illness. None of the cousins had been around to be repelled by Kuwabara this morning, he'd noticed. Maybe they'd all caught pneumonia from each other's chilliness. He could only hope, far-fetched as it was. "It's out here," he said, opening the doors at the end of the hall. "In that building." Not five feet that-a-way, right next to the back parking lot. "There's just one hallway. Go straight down, then through the last classroom before the ag shop. Your classroom's right behind that one." He made to leave, stopped, and added, "I'd _show _you, but I'm not allowed in there anymore without a faculty member." So it didn't seem like he was just dropping Shuichi or anything.

His explanation made Shuichi widen his eyes a bit. "Why? What happened?"

Shrugging, Hiei pursed his lips and muttered, "I started a couple of fires." Or four. He shrugged again. "But they were all on accident." For real. Whatever. He didn't have any required classes out there, so it wasn't like it was much of an inconvenience or anything. He'd always been unsettled by the sight of Yusuke and Kuwabara chasing each other around with lit blowtorches, anyhow. Anyway: "I've gotta go that way. Later."

"Thanks," Shuichi said, waving before walking up to the ag building and disappearing inside.

As for Hiei, there was a couch on the back of the stage calling to him.

* * *

Fourth period. Last period—block scheduling. Class had bee sacrificed to an assembly. An assembly that probably didn't need the full hour and a half. Shuichi had gone to get a drink just to pass the time. He was taking the long way around the school for similar reasons. It wasn't really truancy.

"_Chigo_."

Someone laid a hand on his shoulder. He jumped and spun around. It was "Thespian." Brow furrowed, he corrected: "Shuichi."

"Well, now I know your name." The thespian replaced his hand on Shuichi's shoulder. "Mine is Karasu. But _Chigo _is the name of my play. I had wanted to discuss it with you this morning before Jaganshi yanked you away." His tone carried the slightest trace of ire. Just for a moment, though. "Do you know what a chigo is?" Shuichi shook his head. "A chigo was an adolescent boy. He would receive room, board, and education from a patron, and the chigo performed services in return. Often, sexual services."

Knotting his brows, Shuichi restated: "The chigo was a boy concubine."

"In a sense. As such matters usually go, in literature the chigo as a rule died by the end of most pieces."

"Why?"

"Sickness, suicide, or at the hands of a lover." He said it like it was something tender.

Shuichi shook his head. "That's _how, _not why."

Matter-of-factly Karasu replied, Because it's what the people want. No matter how they insist otherwise, it's all about the angst." And in much the same manner he said, "I think you'd make an exemplary chigo, Shuichi."

… Compliment or not? "What do—?"

Bell ringing; assembly over. "My script will be finished and ready for auditions soon," Karasu continued. "I would very much like you to be my chigo. Give it some thought?" The tails of his coat swished, his boots produced solid echoes on the tile of the empty hall as he walked away.

Empty hall, for a moment or two more. And then came the masses. Quickly Shuichi moved out of the way and made for his locker.

* * *

On his way out of the school Hiei saw Yusuke, and with a swift kick deposited the toe of his boot _hard _into the seat of the other boy's pants. "Fucker," he muttered darkly as he kept walking.

"What the—?! _See_, Keiko? Every time I try to 'apply myself' it doesn't matter, because when Genkai's not kicking my ass _he _is. _'Apply myself,' _thanks for the shitty advi—"

_Smack! _"Don't you dare talk to me like that, jerk!"

Hiei smirked. Dick hadn't been dicking around like usual today, so Hiei'd been ground by _his _custom battle-ax. In the military Genkai had been a drill sergeant, and neither age nor a civilian job as athletics director _and _school disciplinarian had mellowed her out. To the chagrin of the school slackers, delinquents, and neo-Columbine kids.

—Unless you were Yoko Kurama, lounging in the rafters while Genkai berated Hiei out of his catch-up sleep on the couch backstage in the auditorium.—

Apparently there was an assembly last hour, and _he'd _sure as hell better show his _sorry lazy ass_ there if he didn't want detention for the rest of the year!

Joke was on her: he'd already filled up most of _this _semester, so her threat was _nil._

Astonishingly, probably due to some error in communication in the office, Hiei's time served today was complete with the last bell. After paying Yusuke back for being a well-behaved bastard, Hiei walked toward downtown. No way was he going home yet—no _fucking _way in _hell_. Besides, he had a bone to pick with the owner (all right: renter, technically) of the porch he'd spent the night on.

Before he found her, though, he ran into an increasingly more familiar face, which turned around and revealed itself before he'd said anything. "Where are you going?" he asked. The Kurama, or Minamino, house was the other way from the school.

"Oh." Shuichi shrugged. "I don't have much homework and Mom won't be home for a few more hours, so I thought I'd do some exploring. Would you like to come with?"

People he encountered in the street were usually afraid he'd mug them or something. "There's nothing for me to explore," he replied. Street fronts, back alleys, and the buildings in between: he'd scoped them all out before.

"Then you can be my guide."

Fine, okay… "Hungry?" Hiei asked. Before Shuichi could answer he continued, "Because I am. So we're going to Enki's first."

"Who's Enki?"

_Enki _was a very large, very sunburnt, very good-natured man who co-owned the pizza place, _Enki's. _"That blonde back there is Enki's wife, Koko," Hiei told Shuichi after they'd paid for the buffet and filled their plates. Hiei's plate featured what looked like Enki's attempt to wed gumbo and pizza, boasting shrimp and big chunks of pepper. Shuichi meanwhile had alternated between modest pepperoni and a vegetarian that resembled a garden on crust. "The liquor store's thinking of renaming itself in her honor."

"You gossip like a girl."

Without looking at the third party Hiei replied, "You're reliable as a coke-mom," and took a bite of shrimp and pepper. After he'd swallowed: "I spent the night on your porch because you weren't home."

Mukuro rolled one blue eye. He wasn't sure whether the cyberkinetic one rolled or not. "You should have called. I was out."

Nineteen-year-old Mukuro Herru. Employee of Enki's. Graduate of Reikai High. Former resident of the burn ward. Survivor of the foster care system. On-and-off kindasorta of Hiei. "With whom?" he grumbled. Mukuro had a few of her own kindasortas.

"She'll kick your ass if you get nasty with me, or have her brother do it."

Ah—Shizuru, Dumbass's sister. "Bring it on," Hiei replied, smirking behind a slice of pepper half-hanging out his mouth.

"You're _so _brave, or impetuous. Now let me ask: 'With whom?'"

Meaning, With whom was he eating? "Mukuro Herru. Shuichi Minamino." He gestured toward the such-named boy, who quickly blinked, flushed, and managed a too-hasty Hello. It was the norm with anyone who'd never met—seen—Mukuro before, but Shuichi recovered with much more speed and grace than most.

She raised an eyebrow, but not at Shuichi's reaction. "Didn't know you had a _thing _for redheads," she said to Hiei, amused. ("Fuck you," the brunette answered, while the boy redhead looked slightly confused.) To Shuichi: "Yomi mentioned you. You're Kurama's cousin."

He nodded. "You know them?"

"I work with Yomi. Consequently half the time he's here, Kurama is too."

The bell above the door rang. "What's up, Iron Maiden? We heard Enki's rigged up some new thing with tofu."

Casting a consternated look Kuronue's way over the nickname, Mukuro replied, "He did and it's disgusting. Let me guess, you're asking after _his_"—Kurama, who was trying to persuade Shura to come _inside _the place rather than just sit on the stoop—"tastes?"

"Oh ha-ha, is that supposed to be a dish at me or something? Speaking of dishes, we need a personal one of those of the tofu, one large vegetarian and one large Hawaiian, all to go, and we'll be using your dishwasher's discount."

At least he was to the point. "Right, you want a drink with that or anything?" Before taking the order back to the kitchen she told Hiei, "I'll be off at six if you want to talk about last night later." He gave a noncommittal grunt, though odds were that he would.

When she'd left Shuichi asked, "Was she in an accident?"

Figuring it wasn't his story to tell, Hiei just said "Not really," and got up for another plate.

In the kitchen Mukuro paused while Yomi moved back and forth with a cart of clean dishes before returning to the sink. Having worked here for a few years, he was able to navigate the place sightless easily enough. "Your family's here," she told him.

"Oh," he muttered, sliding a rack of plates into the machine and slamming the lever down. "Guess the high school's out, then?"

School could be a touchy subject with Yomi. He was still recently blind and still had bitter moments. "I guess, unless they, Hiei, and Kurama's cousin are all skipping."

Unsure of Shuichi Minamino's habits, they could very well be. "They've got Shura, right?"

"That would be one of the motives behind the word 'family'."

"Good; I can count on them keeping an eye on him, instead of just paying lipservice to parenting."

_Ah_: Mukuro knew what was up now. Earlier there'd been a family with two boys that had shoved a chair right in Yomi's path, which since Yomi didn't use the cane in Enki's, had almost sent him flying. "That's what little boys do—be big pains in the ass and try everyone's patience to the point of homicide. What're you going to do when Shura's the age?"

Dead serious: "Kick his ass."

Out front the bell above the door rang again, and this time Shishi Wakamaru and Suzuka Kyougi entered. Kurama watched both as they went to the counter and he returned from the fountain with a glass of water, then caught Hiei's eye and smirked. Would Ms. Enshutsu hear about _this _encounter?

_Fuck you, _Hiei mouthed. He hardly knew either of them.

Switching sophomores now, Kurama looked at Shuichi and asked, "Am I expecting a phone call from your mother?"

"Maybe. Probably."

"Fine, so long as she doesn't come knocking all of a sudden. Especially given that I'm unsure she's been in that part of town; though it appears that _you're _branching out. How did you get Mr. Misanthrope to be your escort?"

"Fuck you," Hiei voiced this time. Shuichi watched while Yoko smirked at Hiei, leaning leftward when the boy in black threw a crust his way, and resumed his former position, still smirking.

Still smirking when he nonchalantly said, "I'm a little caught up right now to add a dwarf to my repertoire."

Opposite him Kuronue choked, tried, failed to suppress a series of chuckles. "Sorry," he said to Hiei, biting his lip as he doubled over—

—Which gave Shura an adequate moment of negligence to crawl off Kuronue's knee, onto the table, and knock over the glass of water.

Right onto Kurama.

Now Hiei smirked and Shuichi went bug-eyed as the flaxen-haired boy lunged to his feet with a loud gasp. Kuronue meanwhile was howling. "YOMI!" he bawled, wiping his eyes. "Come see what your kid's done!"

"Put a cork in it!" Koko barked from the kitchen.

"Yes, please, Kuronue," Kurama concurred tersely. It'd be unwise to try Yomi's boss _and _their landlady just because she and Enki didn't have any direct leverage on Kuronue himself. When the Man in the Floppy Hat managed to stifle himself to spare snorts, and had pulled Curious Shura off the table (amidst waving toddler arms and emphatic "Mamamamama!"s—Shura for "Nonononono!"), Kurama emptied the napkin holder of most its contents and, after reducing himself from dripping to damp, began cleaning up the table.

Not long after he started Kuronue objected: "You're wiping counterclockwise. It's supposed to be clockwise. Doing it counterclockwise is going against the sun."

Smiling a little Schadenfreude smile, Kurama said, "Oh, is that bad luck?"

"Yes!" Despite a pretty level head most of the time, Kuronue was a touch, or maybe more, superstitious. Certain little things had to be done in certain little ways or it spelled potential disaster, from the classic avoidance of stepping on cracks (on Skid Row Road, where most of the sidewalks were broken up, Kuronue commonly walked either on the grass or in the street), to the more obscure clockwise circular wiping strategy. Not that Kurama was going to accommodate him—asshole had practically just pissed himself laughing at Kurama's bath courtesy of Shura, hell if _he _was going to alter something that was nipping at said asshole's OCD-ness. Looking up, Kurama's Scadenfreude smile broadened when he saw Kuronue clinging to his security blanket, a bejeweled red pendant on a ­­­­thong around his neck. His hand, the one not holding Shura back from climbing up on the table again, turned it over and over, fingers worrying the edges and facets (for as much as he did it, Kurama was surprised that the bauble still _had _facets). _Ass! _accused indigo eyes as they glared down at Kurama's rebellious fingers, as though doing it long enough would result in telekinetically correcting the fiends.

No such luck, and Kurama had adequately tipped the scales by the time Yomi came out with the personal tofu, large vegetarian, and large Hawaiian, all boxed up. "What is it I was supposed to 'see' Shura do?"

"Little pervert entered Kurama in a wet t-shirt contest," Kuronue answered with a grin, distracted now from the sun-defiantly cleaned table. "I'd be careful if I were you; this could be an early sign of an Oedipus complex."

"You know Freud was a closeted bisexual and a self-hating Jew, right?" Kurama inquired, opening the personal box and taking out a piece of tomato saucy tofu goodness. Half the slice was consumed before he concluded: "Doesn't strike me as someone worth investing an exorbitant amount of esteem in." Maybe Ms. Enshutsu should consider _that_, before making speculations as to why Kurama did what.

"Save me some Hawaiian," Yomi said. Meaning, I have to get back to work.

"Score us some leftovers," Kuronue replied. "Kurama, you wanna carry the food or the kid?"

In light of recent wetness the decision was obvious. Kurama stuffed another piece of tofu in his mouth and then picked up the stack of boxes. Looking Hiei's and Shuichi's way, he shrugged one shoulder, having no available hand to wave, and forced open the door with the other shoulder. Kuronue caught it with a leg so that it didn't shut on Shura and him.

This entire time Shuichi had been unable to watch without staring just a little. "You didn't know about him," Hiei guessed.

"Who is he?"

"His name's Kuronue Koumori."

"Are they … Are _all _of them…?"

He shrugged. Yomi and Kurama were fucking. Kurama and Kuronue were fucking. But Hiei didn't know if this was an "_a _equals _b _and _b _equals _c_, therefore…" scenario, and if _a _also equaled _c _and Yomi and Kuronue were also fucking, he didn't know if they ever squashed the formula into _abc_'s—Moreover, he didn't _want _to know and he _shouldn't _know. _He _was a mere acquaintance by consequence of Kurama and he both making Principal Daio nervous; it was probably fucked up that he knew more than Kurama's own cousin. Hiei thought it was fucked up enough in his _own _personal life that he knew who all his kindasorta's kindasortas were (himself obviously, Kiren, Shizuru, there was that fling with Natsume, that one he was pretty sure happened with Koko, and he was never _quite _sure about Yomi, though he _did _know that Mukuro wasn't whatever "cold, steely bitch" was co-responsible for spawning Shura…).

Or maybe it wasn't as fucked up as it seemed, and Hiei was simply a lot less open than everyone else. Since that option made him the stranger anomaly, it was probably the accurate one.

Suddenly Shuichi laughed. "So much for today's exploration. Mom gets of work soon, so I should be going. Thanks for bringing me here, though. Now I know where to come for dinner and a show."

Hiei snorted. At least this one didn't go into all-out corniness like Kuwabara and Yusuke could. "See you at school."

_Luckily _for Hiei, "Mom" was cold in the ground feeding worms, so he had no maternal figure to worry and keep waiting while he sat here, munching on Enki's concoctions and waiting for Mukuro to get off.

* * *

Yoko Kurama. Milky moonlight hair. Alabaster skin. Full lips the color of palest pink rose (and the texture of, he knew from brief—_terribly, teasingly, brief_—experience). Long slender limbs on a long slender body. And those eyes, two points of cold light, foreboding but drawing your attention to the fact that there was a secret inside, that eh would never give up and you would never figure out.

_Exciting._

But like glittering snow or a silken rose, with Kurama's appeal there came a bite, a sting. It was his chilly personality in particular that made Karasu grow hot. His fervent attempt to know Kurama had been cut short with an impersonal shove, a few curt words—_end scene_. The keeper of the unanswerable question was also something unattainable.

_Exciting._

Today, though, he was absolutely tingling. He had met the earthly sensuous counterpart to Kurama's alien changeling from the moon: Shuichi. Abundant, thick, wavy magenta hair. Wide, glittering eyes that looked—_looked, _at everything in a manner more receptive than Kurama's manipulative. Rosy complexion. Chubby adolescent physique. Lush, ripe, demanding to be plucked up like Ganymede and devoured and lauded for every full, sensational detail, and Karasu had already authored dozens of scenes by which this could be accomplished.

_It was __**art**__._

* * *

**A/N: **More surnames…

**Mukuro:** Herru = Hel—one of the three children of the Norse god Loki; split vertically, half gorgeous woman, half rotting corpse ("Mukuro" = "Corpse").

**Shishiwakamaru:** duh, right?

**Suzuka:** Kyougi = Vanity

**Koenma: **"Daio" seems to be part of his father's title in the show, and since he's Enma Junior, it seemed like a logical surname candidate.


	4. Poison

**A/N: **The beginnings and ends of years seem to have become my most likely time for writing and actually getting updates, um, updated. Also seems to be the same time as my school's winter break. Fancy that.

But I'm gonna try-_try_-to be a tad bit more diligent about that. This story's younger than some of my other WIPs so I haven't been quite as negligent, but something I'm aiming for for 2011 is being more apparent on the Latest page.

In the meantime, we're revisiting Alice Cooper in light of characters' hangovers in this chapter (interpreting "poison" literally), and one specific character's continuing quest toward corruption. Read on!

* * *

Youth Gone Wild  
Chapter 4: Poison  
December 28, 2010

"Hey, Mukuro!"

Hiei's eyelids creased, then parted, allowing the red orbs underneath to glare into the dark. The bedroom door was open, and the hall light on. A shadow could be seen travelling up and down its length, contorting as its fleshly lead bent over or crouched down, looking for something.

"MUKURO! Have you seen my nose ring?"

"Did you check the counter?"

Grumbling, Hiei sat up, hissed and held his breath as a burning pain shot up from around the base of his spine. He'd expected it, but _still_.

"It's not on the counter!"

Hiei rolled his eyes, untangled himself from the sheets.

"Is it in the bathroom?"

"_Shit! _What if it went down the sink?"

Hiei shuffled into the bathroom, turned on the light, blinked, rolled his eyes again. "It's _on _the sink, shitheads!" he bellowed on his way to the toilet, at which he dropped his pants and began to piss.

The bathroom door, partially open, was flung so the rest of the way as Shigure bolted in and reclaimed the found piece of jewelry. "Anything burn?" he asked Hiei casually while he slid the ring through his nostril.

"My piss, or my ass?" Hiei replied, pulling up his pants and slamming down the seat. Mukuro had finally trained him to do so when he was done. He'd never realized how serious she was about the whole thing until he'd left it up one time too many, and she stormed in the next time and slammed it down _right on him._

"If it burns to piss, you should probably see a doctor."

"You mean a _licensed _one, right?" he retorted, shoving Shigure out of the way so he could wash his hands.

"Just remember, the lubricant just allows things to slide easier. You're not dying if you're sore."

He was _not _that naïve. "I think I'll live," he said, rear-slamming the bigger man on his way out.

Mukuro was in the kitchen, eating an orange while the tea kettle made warm-up hisses. "Hey." Hiei looked, took a step back and quickly caught the key she threw at him. "Get a copy of that made today. You should probably go let your foster dad know you're alive, but you shouldn't have to sleep on any porch again. Bring me the original at work."

Hiei pocketed it. "Thanks," he said, putting a pair of Pop-Tarts in the toaster while looking for his backpack.

"How're you feeling?"

Why all the solicitations—"I'm _fine_. Shit, you're more concerned about a poked sphincter than you were when I split open my hands."

"That's what you get for being a dumbshit and playing catch with the knives," she said.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw his breakfast popping up. He put one in his jaws and felt melted chocolate ooze into his mouth. "'A'er," he managed, throwing his backpack on with one hand while waving his intact Pop-Tart at her with the other.

"Mukuro!" he heard on his way out. "Have you seen my eyebrow ring?"

* * *

Keiko read through the description. "This play…"

"_Gay_," Yusuke and Kuwabara opined unanimously.

A red brow quirked. "Well, yeah," Shuichi said. "The titular character's a boy concubine."

Something got skewed in the meaning of that statement. "He's got _tits?_" Yusuke grabbed the script for _Chigo _and searched for that phantom detail. Keiko sighed.

"Are you going to try out for a part?" Yukina asked her.

She pursed her lips. "Maybe if I can do _drag_. The only female role I've seen so far is the chigo's shrew stepmother."

"Not true," Shuichi told her. "There's … the lover's shrew wife, hm…" He frowned, while beside him Keiko grumbled, "Why do I get the feeling Karasu Bankudan's a misogynist?"

There was a silence, where something like a barb should have been, but didn't deliver.

Kuwabara paused, then screwed up his face, and said in a crabby, munchkin-like voice, "Maybe Thespian wrote it with those Koorime bitches in mind!" And then, in his normal voice, "Sorry, Yukina."

"Don't censor me, asshat. Those bitches are _not _girls."

Everyone jumped. "Shit!" Yusuke exclaimed. "Kuwabara, you didn't even have candles or a mirror!"

Hiei scowled. "Not so loud."

"What, you got a _hangover _or something?"

Actually, Hiei wasn't much into alcoholic stuff. His choice of liquid vice would probably be caffeine—until cardiac arrest, on his moodier days, if Mukuro were inclined to not give a damn. "We're in a _library_, dolt. Or didn't you notice the book you're getting?"

Indeed, the school librarian, Ayame, was giving Yusuke a most pointed look. "Eh," he dismissed. "So, what, you wuss out halfway through dicking off from school or something?"

"I had shit to do." Retrieving some stuff, safely stowed in his locker now, while his foster dad was at work. "The fuck does it matter to you?"

Yusuke shrugged. "Doesn't. Didn't even notice you were gone 'til Shuichi pointed it out. Hey, check out this gay-ass play that Bakudan guy wrote."

Shrugging off the momentary disappointment that it wasn't Yukina who'd noted his absence, Hiei said, "Why're you interested in the Thespian's play?"

"It ain't _my _script. Shuichi found it."

Shuichi didn't bother correcting him. Knowing, or at least taking an educated guess, that Hiei disliked Karasu, who from the looks of it reciprocated, the redhead didn't feel like mentioning that the script—tentative script—had been _given _him by its writer, who still hoped Shuichi might try out as his chigo.

It was a matter they would probably discuss further on Saturday, tomorrow.

* * *

Indigo and violet eyes stared at each other, the former pair more intensely than the latter. A crease formed in the forehead presiding over the blue orbs, pushing dark eyebrows down over them. They practically bore into the violet pair, which blinked innocently, its owner completely unaware of the appraisal at hand.

Kuronue eased up his chin, unfolded his hands, and leaned back in his chair, despite his more relaxed posture staring no less intensely at the creature seated opposite him, in the highchair.

Solemnly he said to Shura, "You remind me of the babe."

"_Stop_," Yomi growled. "Right there, stop. You get that stuck in my head again, you're out of the house for a _month_."

From the couch Kurama stirred, and half-yawned, half-groaned, "Get what stuck in your head?"

"Oh hey, Sleeping Beauty," Kuronue greeted with a wicked smile, and baited, "The babe with the power."

Disoriented, Kurama fell for it. "What power?"

Regretting it, as voices immediately shot up in volume. "The power of VOODOO!"

"FUCK YOU!" Yomi shouted.

"You do!"

"_What?_"

"Remind me of the babe!" Kuronue crowed triumphantly, while Shura laughed and clapped his hands. "Thanks for the help, Hangover Hero."

Wincing, Kurama tried to think, found it painful. "Uh…" Yawn. "You're welcome?"

From the kitchen he was reprimanded: "Don't encourage him, Kurama! Fuckin' thing's gonna be stuck in my fuckin' head all fuckin' day…"

Kuronue smirked. "Wait until I teach the whole spiel to your kid."

"How can you teach him," Yomi retorted, "when you've been banned for a month?"

"I'll go see if your babysitter and his boyfriend want a handsome boy toy."

"You'd be biting off more than you can chew. Speaking of—." Yomi was holding a breakfast burrito, took a sizeable bite off one end, and ripped the rest in half as cleanly as possible.

Kurama awoke a little more. "Where'd you get that?" he asked, as Yomi set the unbitten half on the coffee table in front of him.

"_I _bought it at the gas station," Kuronue said. Actually he'd bought two, and scarfed down his en route to brining the other one home to Yomi, while Kurama lay more than sat passed out in the passenger seat. He finished his coffee, decided he'd be nice too and sacrifice the last cup to the certainly hung-over flaxen-haired boy. "Now, how much did you drink last night?"

Last night there'd been a party at Mukuro Herru's, celebrating her younger Gothic boy toy having his own key to the place now. "Shigure wanted an excuse to drink," Yomi had accused knowingly when invited that Friday afternoon, to which Mukuro replied with a prompt "Yep." He had passed the invitation up, not feeling well and Shura besides; but Kuronue and Kurama had both gone, and left around five this morning, after Kuronue located and removed a dead drunk Kurama from the bedroom, where still awake he'd been conversing with Hiei Jaganshi.

Thinking for a moment and still finding it painful, Kurama answered, "Not enough to puke."

"Uh-huh." At times like this Kuronue wished most of all that Yomi had his sight want. He wanted someone to share a pointed, conspiratorial glance with.

Thank Freud for wicked ids, though. Grinning evilly, the blind man felt around the drawers, found a couple of pans…"

"AH!" Kurama fell off the couch, curled into the fetal position, and clamped his hands over his ears. "Don't you have _work?_"

"What do you think I'm getting ready for?" To Kuronue: "Don't you have to warm up the car?"

"Drink lots of water today, precious," Kuronue cooed to a hateful, still horizontal, Kurama on his way out. Kurama replied by hissing.

"Aren't you meeting what's-her-face today?" Yomi asked. The hissing thickened into groaning. "Get you ass moving! Are you taking Shura, or am I asking Itsuki to watch him?"

"Yes," Kurama grumbled. "I am. Okay, I will. And yes, I am, so _no_, you're not. I'm not telling her that Shura's being babysat by the upstairs psycho's spousal punching bag."

"So long as someone's got him." Yomi grabbed his glasses off the end table, grabbed his jacket out the front closet, and pushed Shura's head playfully. "Hope she doesn't think you're a drunk. I'm out."

"Dance magic dance!" Kurama snarled after him.

* * *

Seeking quietude, and hoping to dodge the majority of the after-party clean-up, Hiei had opted to play the good student and spend Saturday morning in the library. He'd thought he'd found the quietude, too, until a voice that was still too flat to be sarcastic—still too flat even for sarcasm's lethargic half-cousin, deadpan—bumped into him:

"That looks educational."

"Hn," Hiei sniffed. He was reading _Coin Locker Babies_. "Inspirational, maybe."

"You should give Miss Enshutsu a book review," Yoko said.

"Maybe I'll review some of your psychobabbles from last night instead," Hiei shot back. "What're you doing here?" Almost no one ever showed at the school on a Saturday, sans compulsion.

Kurama held up his hand, bringing to attention the thing clasped onto the other end. "Library has some kids' books, and I have to keep him entertained for a while later."

"Yeah," Hiei said dryly. "You told me." Kurama grimaced at him. "Actually, so'd your cousin."

"_Pardon_?"

Hiei pointed to a table in the Quiet Area, where Shuichi Minamino had set up shop. "I feel bad for anyone who shares a class that matters with him. He's been vivisecting the shit out of stuff since before I came in." Which had been a few hours ago; their buddy had probably come in at opening, or a little after at latest, Hiei wagered.

"Hm." Shuichi was studying under the clock. "Gotta run," Kurama said, steering Shura toward the check-out desk. "Give my regards to the harem."

"Does your glass house echo?" Hiei dismissed, still watching the table under the clock. Shuichi had just put away the latest textbook, and pulled out a stapled mess of papers that looked somewhat familiar.

Recognizing it, Hiei narrowed his eyes. Karasu Bakudan's play. He shifted into a position he'd have to take care not to conk out in, and resumed reading.

Shuichi, meanwhile, moved his eyes back and forth as rapidly as possible without losing cognition of the content. Like everyone else in his family, he had a meeting today.

More than a few times a scene would make him grimace. Well, he'd heard that the life of a chigo wasn't pretty….

Time passed. Almost closing, and Ayame was beginning to cast an almost predatory expression towards Shuichi. He in turn looked at the door, and began to gather up his things.

A shadow fell across the desk, long enough to engulf Shuichi as well.

"Ready?" Karasu asked.

"Yes," Shuichi replied, accepting the hand held out toward him.

* * *

"How much did _you _drink last night?" Mukuro ventured.

"Less than you," Yomi retorted, massaging his forehead. "I have a _kid_; I can't stumble home _or _drink alone and pass out." He heaved a sigh and tilted his head back, he lower part of his face stretching this way and that, the upper part pinched in on itself. "I thnk I've got something," he said as though it were a labor. "You should probably do all the food-handling today, and the cleaning, and-"

"_Fuck you_."

"Okay, but you can keep your guys; I've got two at home." His grimace loosened momentarily into a smirk. "I hear they could probably fuck each other in your absence. Copycat."

Mukuro rolled her eyes, and made a corresponding sound for his benefit. "Shigure's _pierced_. Hiei was curious."

For a moment the stressed contortions of Yomi's face gave way, and he managed a weak laugh. It cut short, though; his features screwed back up into a poisoned-looking expression, and he was in agony again.

* * *

Dark-haired, middle-aged woman in a gray vest and skirt, already sitting at the booth. Kurama wondered why the hell she had to ear something so businesslike, and assumed nonchalance as he carried himself and his burdens to the table.

Shiori raised her eyebrows a little when she saw the diaper bag and toddler. "Who's this?" she asked.

"His name's Shura," Yoko replied, arranging everything on his side of the booth.

"Do we need to ask for a highchair?"

"No."

"And … this is your friend's son?"

"Yes." Everything arranged, he sat down now, and looked at her.

She looked back. Yoko's platinum hair fell loose over his shoulders, and in this restaurant's lighting looked a little dingy. His eyes reminded her of mustard, but judging from the purplish marks beneath them, she didn't think their tired look was merely an effect.

"Was it hard bringing him?" she asked.

"Kuronue dropped us off," he negated blandly.

Shiori chose her words, her tone carefully. "Another friend?"

It was the tilt of her head that Yoko took offense to. He nodded his answer, then gave her an almost challenging look. "My father knew about both of them, you know. Walking in without knocking'll do that." Slight lilt of Shiori's eyebrow. Carelessly-sounding Yoko added, "He was a little surprised about Yomi, but that was more because he'd fathered Shura than anything."

She looked at the child, the smaller one. "Experiment baby?"

Actually, he didn't know, so he shrugged. There'd been a thing between Yomi and Mukuro after Shura was born, he knew that; but also after Yomi'd gone out with a biker named Raizen for a while. Kurama didn't even know how long the mother herself had been in the picture, if she'd ever been, and figured that Yomi had probably gotten the raw end of a one-night stand.

"Shura has plenty of honorary parents," he shrugged, and as if on cue, Shura piped up with "_Mama!_" and pelted him with a spoon.

The lilt became an all-out lift. "It's how he says 'Kurama'," he said. "Shura, can you say 'Shiori'?"

"Shori!"

_See? _he challenged with his eyes.

Shiori ordered for them, and waited until her quasi-charge, as she viewed Yoko, and his quasi-charge both had food and drink, before starting her second volley. "You've been going to school?" she asked Yoko.

"Everyday," he replied, "practically. Ask Shuichi, we see each other." Pausing, he added, "It's not like Dad was doing much parenting from his deathbed, you know. I've been taking care of myself for a while. I was taking care of _him _almost exclusively the last six months."

_Where were _you_? _

She pushed onward. "So now that you don't have to anymore, it doesn't matter what happens to the house and everything?"

"You're the executor," he dismissed blandly. "When I left I took anything I was really interested in, anyhow." The challenge returned to his gaze. "Shouldn't I be focused on school and things like that now?"

"Right, right." Shura put a gob of something in his mouth; Yoko wiped it. "I'm just not sure that a child falls under 'things like that.' Has Yomi tried looking for any groups that help kids as parents?"

"Yomi's an _adult_," Yoko pointed out, following with, "_I _am an adult." He'd tossed his head; his eyes looked like sulfur. "You know when I started taking care of Shura I already had experience changing diapers?"

He was too defensive for her to get anywhere this way. "Do you have anyone to watch the child during school?" she asked.

"Always," replied Yoko curtly. Even if sometimes they weren't ideal. Emphatically he said, "Living with a child isn't interfering with my school." Unlike Yomi, he _could _keep up with classes; and unlike Kuronue, he attended them _regularly_.

"Okay." Shiori wondered if she might get the school to show her grade trans—but no, Yoko was eighteen now. "Do you have money?" she asked him.

He knew what she was getting at. "My inheritance," he replied. "Yomi's job. Kuronue and I work sometimes, too. I don't need any help."

Yoko had always been a reserved child. Even when he was small, speaking with him was somewhat like a verbal chess game. "You don't miss the house," she tried, "or anything?"

The adolescent, or young adult, tilted his head, pressed his molars down on a piece of bread crust. "A house is a mere material structure," he said with a shrug. "If we're talking about missing Inari, I think it'd make more sense if I moved out to the cemetery. I have no problem with you and Shuichi living there now, if that's what you're worried about." No quick reply, so Yoko wrapped up: "This is my last year of school; we have a source of income; what concern is it to you?" His tone never changed, nor did his eye contact ever break.

_Checkmate? _

_

* * *

_

"What revisions would you have in mind?"

Shuichi took a sip of sweetened iced tea while he pondered what to answer. "I don't know what you ought to change," he confessed. "As is, though, I don't think the school would allow its performance; it's too violent."

"It's supposed to be violent," Karasu said. "Violence is a motif of the _chigo monogatari_."

"I think as a _piece _it's excellent," Shuichi said hastily. "But I still don't think you'd get away with performing it in school."

Karasu took a bite of chicken and appeared to be in thought. In reality, his thoughts were less on the food in his mouth, or the play on the table, than on the redhead seated across from him. Eyebrows knitted slightly, forming a small bead of flesh just above the bridge of his nose. One cheek puffed out further than the other, chewing his food on one side of his mouth. Pupils focused on that puffed-out cheek. His mind doubled it, made it symmetrical. He imagined it was something other than a chicken leg that filled Shuichi's mouth, that the liquid shining on the younger boy's chin was something other than grease.

Molars ground on bone. He held the end of it between finger and thumb, and slid it out, stripped of any flesh or skin whatsoever.

Green eyes widened. "Good?" Shuichi asked.

"Succulent," Karasu replied, eyes never leaving the redhead as he set the remains of his appetizer on his plate.

* * *

"Whassup, Iron Maiden?"

Listlessly Mukuro turned her one blue eye onto the darker pair crinkling down at her. "Contending with what you dropped off this morning," she replied.

"Pardon?"

"He's dying out back."

"Huh," Kuronue said, more an utterance of contemplation than an expression of confusion. Looking behind him, he addressed a seemingly empty-looking booth: "Maybe you oughta ask him later. Or if he's actually dying, maybe you won't have to ask him at all." The booth made an irritated yet half-hearted growl.

"Pardon?" Mukuro mimicked.

"Tell you in a minute," Kuronue promised. "Just tell him we're here."

"Just a minute," she retorted, and went back into the kitchen, where she opened the back door, and told the figure lying across a row of crates in the alley, "Family's here."

The lines along Yomi's temples intensified. "Feed the kid or whatever else they're looking for."

He looked miserable. "Should I ask Shigure to take a look at you if you're feeling so bad?"

"No. Maybe. Ask me later."

"Got it, Eight ball."

Kurama, who lying down had been the voice of the booth, sat up when Mukuro came back out front. "Yomi smoking or something?"

His voice had taken on a "mother hen" type of tone: Yomi'd sworn off cigarettes when Shura was born. "No, but he's probably gathering near as much disease lying in that alley."

"In the gravel?" Kuronue asked.

Giving him an _Are you an idiot? _look, she replied, "On some crates."

"Oh." He shrugged. "No worries, then." Kurama snorted. "For now," the brunet added.

"Yeah, how did that thing with your cousin go?" Mukuro asked, suspecting she knew the reason for Kurama's current mood.

Gold eyes narrowed. "Yomi tell you?"

"Sort of." In the state her coworker was today, the only time he spoke was to blow steam.

A snort from the booth in the corner. "You all gossip like women."

"Yeah?" Kuronue smirked. "You know I heard that Shigure made you feel like a _real woman _the other night. How was that?"

A spiky black head bolted up into view, a dark face cast Mukuro an even darker look.

She shrugged. "I _am _a woman."

"She wants to meet the other person responsible for that," Kurama muttered, ignoring the lovers' spat and pointing to Shura when he said "that."

"I used to be responsible for 'that'," Mukuro pointed out.

"Yeah, I tried the communal values thing; she wants the actual _parent_."

"Overrated," Hiei muttered. He considered Kurama more blatantly now, and said, "So long as everyone's butting into everyone else's business—"

"_Butting_," Kuronue snorted.

Red eyes swiveled, narrowed on him a moment, then returned to Kurama. "I saw your cousin get on the bus with the Thespian this morning."

"_Who?_"

"Karasu Bakudan."

There was a pause. "That guy that blew up the chemistry lab?" Kuronue asked. "Loon."

"That alone doesn't make someone a loon!" said Hiei defensively. He was banned from a few other school vicinities aside from the shop.

"Maybe," Kurama said. "But he is a loon." To Kuronue, "I told you about him."

Kuronue thought a moment, then narrowed his eyes. "Don't worry," Kurama concluded. "If they're on a bus they're in public, and I know where he lives anyhow." Thoughtfully he looked past the kitchen door. "He'd probably bite off my head if I went back there right now, wouldn't he?"

"If he bit off mine he'd have to do everything himself until Enki comes in later," Mukuro replied.

"Figured that." He could tell Yomi Shiori's request later. "Wanna go break into Bakudan's place?" he asked Kuronue, who smirked.

_No answer needed. _

_

* * *

_

**A/N: **_Coin Locker Babies _is a novel by Ryu Murakami, about two guys who as babies were found abandoned in adjacent coin lockers in a subway station. Our hero's goal in the novel is tracking down and killing the mother that abandoned him, but it's all a lot weirder than just that.


End file.
